


Patched Up

by FiveTail



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-11 03:33:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12926454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiveTail/pseuds/FiveTail
Summary: For everything you are, there are a thousand yous that could have been.





	Patched Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SirKai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirKai/gifts).



> Commissioned by [sirkai](http://sirkai.tumblr.com/).  
> 
>
>> Ana very intimately teaching Reinhardt how to do something medical oriented, like dressing a wound or mixing up an anti-nade :eyes: (it's not self insert but oops...)
> 
> I think I strayed a bit too far from this prompt...I hope it's okay, though!

  
Reinhardt recoiled as the head of the forceps slid beneath his skin, the cold metal prongs gently digging beneath the incision made in his upper arm.

“Sorry for the trouble,” he said, straining the words in one tight breath.

Ana clicked her tongue. “Nonsense. All this _modern medical technology_ and Respawn _still_ manages to miss bullets. Ridiculous.”

As if on cue, she secured the shrapnel between the pincers of her forceps, easing the casing out and dropping it on a nearby tray with a wet little _clatter_. Wasting no time, she reached over and flushed out the opening with biotic solution she'd prepared in advance, making streams of glowing yellow and scarlet red dribble from the wound.

Reinhardt playfully twisted his wince into a grin. “I was surprised to see you here, Ana! I thought you and Fareeha would be gone for the holidays.”

“Fareeha sees enough of me during the year. She is visiting her father this week.”

“Ah. And you are…okay with that?”

“We are on good terms, yes." Ana continued cleaning around the wound until the seeping eased. "You know as well as I that a soldier’s life does not always work with family. I do not begrudge him for that.”

“Bah! Proper _conviction_ is needed to be with a soldier that way. You are not an opportunity I would let go so easily.”

Ana smirked as soft colour dusted her dark cheeks. Reinhardt was polite enough to pretend not to notice.

“ _Alas_ ,” he continued, dramatically, “I cannot begrudge him either, for he gave you Fareeha! Strong, smart, beautiful Fareeha, who thankfully took after her mother.”

Ana shook her head. “The stubbornness is from her father’s side.”

“She would argue with you on that one!”

“My point exactly.”

"Ha!"

Ana threaded her suture needle's eye. The biotic solution, which served as both a healing agent and a local anesthetic, numbed the area enough for her to apply the needle without causing him too much pain; her steady hands and deft fingers got to work, sewing the laceration shut bit-by-bit with ease.

“Do you ever regret not having children of your own, Reinhardt?” she asked, eyes fixed on keeping her stitches straight.

“Me? Never. Between my comrades and their daughters, I have all the family I need.”

She glanced up from her handiwork; the words had escaped him well enough, but the certainty didn’t quite reach his eyes.

It was too easy, she realized, to imagine him as a younger man doting over a daughter of his own: a loud, energetic, bold little girl with her father all but wrapped around her finger. Whether it was a conscious decision from a lifelong pledge of civic duty, or the accidental passage of time making a few too many years slip past his fingers, Ana couldn't be sure--all she knew was that Reinhardt had wanted a family enough to build his own from parts of others, and the arrangement suited everyone just fine.

Tying off the last of the stitches, Ana hummed thoughtfully. “I think you would have made a fine father, Wilhelm.”

Reinhardt chuckled again, more of a breath than a laugh, and there was a solemness in his tone that struck Ana too deep in her chest.

“Ana,” Reinhardt began, “I have a confession to make.”

“Hm?”

Looking off to the side, he rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. “I…would have been able to do this on my own. I just wanted a reason to see you.”

“I know,  _ḥabībī,_ ” she smiled, while removing her bloodied latex gloves. “You are not as clever as you think you are.”

He bellowed a loud, hearty chuckle in reply. “That’s why I have you!”

“You silly man.”

In spite of all his confidence, he still wrinkled his nose when she kissed him on the bridge of it, and he was still flushing by the time she pulled away.


End file.
